


Acceptance

by Calacious



Category: The Big Valley
Genre: Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Heath is gay, M/M, Self-Acceptance, Victoria is a great mother, Yuletide 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 20:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17049917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious
Summary: Heath is unsure of his place with the Barkleys, and when Victoria catches him in the bunkhouse with another man, he's certain that his time there is about to end.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crysgen78](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crysgen78/gifts).



> Heath's eyes are indeed enough to inspire fic. I hope that you enjoy this Yuletide gift.

Heath’s top lip is captured between Samuel’s teeth in a gentle, playful nip that makes Heath gasp. And then there’s teeth and tongue and Heath closes his eyes to savor the smoky-sweet taste of his new lover. They’re in the empty bunkhouse -- the rest of the ranch hands are out mending fences, running cattle, keeping busy -- taking advantage of the sliver of time they have to taste each other. This thing they have is new and Heath hasn’t been touched like this, by another man, in far too long.

Samuel’s got Heath pinned to one of the lower bunks, one broad hand encircling Heath’s wrists in a grip that he wishes would leave bruises. They can’t risk it, though. Can’t risk anyone finding out about them, so the touches have to be light as a feather, though Heath wishes for more. Wishes that they wouldn’t have to hide.

Neither of them notice the lithe steps of the woman of the house or the gasp of shock that’s quickly covered. They do hear the curse that accompanies a thump that sounds painful and Heath’s heart stops beating entirely. Samuel moves off of him, sliding to the floor like liquid -- all smooth muscle and haste -- and Heath misses the other man’s weight, the warmth that seeped in through their clothes, the friction that had been building between them. He’s hard and panting and Victoria’s impeccable hair is a bright halo around her head where she’s framed in the doorway, the bright light of day giving her an almost angelic glow, keeping her face, and whatever look it holds for him (he thinks it must be one of contempt) in shadow.

Swallowing, Heath clears his throat, intending to explain that what she’s seen isn’t what was happening, that it wasn’t what it looks like. Samuel’s sitting beside the bunk, hugging his knees and Heath reaches down to touch his shoulder, but the other man flinches and Heath pulls his fingers back as though scorched, curling them to his palms, wishing that things could be different.

Victoria turns and leaves and Heath’s mouth is dry, his palms sweaty. Samuel says nothing, jaw locked, hands trembling, he stares at his knees.

“I’ll talk with her, let her know that this isn’t your fault,” Heath says, pushing himself out of the bunk, his flagging erection no longer an issue.

“Don’t matter,” Samuel says. “She ain’t gonna understand. She ain’t gonna turn out her own son over some faceless, nameless ranch hand.”

Heath wants to tell Samuel that she will understand, that Victoria’s different than others, but his heart’s racing. He’s only been with the Barkleys for a few months. He and Nick still butt heads like a donkey with its master. He doesn’t know how the Barkleys feel about such things, doesn’t know that they won’t run them off, have them both carted off to jail, or worse. Still, his heart aches for this family that he’s found to love him, to accept him, all of him, and so he forces himself to follow Victoria into the house, squeezing Samuel’s shoulder on the way out the door, hoping that the man won’t leave, doubting that Samuel will stay.

Victoria smiles at him when he enters the house, gestures for him to come stand beside her. Heart thumping painfully in his chest, Heath complies.

“Your father had an uncle with the same inclination,” Victoria says, resting a hand on Heath’s arm. There’s no judgment in her tone of voice, but Heath’s muscles still bunch and tense under Victoria’s gentle, yet firm hand. His nerves feel taut as a piano wire stretched too far; he’s afraid they’ll snap.

He feels foolish, ashamed. He doesn’t deserve Victoria’s understanding, her love. He’s come to think of her as a mother, now he’s certain that she’ll want nothing to do with him.

“No one ever paid him any mind.” Victoria pats Heath’s arm in a manner he’s grown used to since he’s come to live with the Barkleys.

It should be reassuring, but Heath’s heart is thumping like a jackrabbit being chased like a fox and he’s finding it difficult to breathe. He hadn’t meant for the Barkleys, Victoria in particular, to find out about his inclination to find pleasure in the arms of other men. He’d done his best to hide it, but she’d seen. She’d seen and now Heath’s life is over. He’s certain of this.

“It’s okay, Heath,” Victoria says, squeezing his arm, pulling him toward the sofa to sit beside her.

His legs feel stiff as boards and wobbly as a newborn calf’s at the same time. He feels like he did when he was just a gangly teenage boy caught out kissing his first love underneath the sycamore tree. Billy, the son of a local farmer, just a few years older and a couple inches taller than Heath, had rough hands, but soft lips and Heath had loved him with all the fervor of a hormonal teenager head over heels for his first love.

Heath’s mother hadn’t said a word when she’d caught them kissing -- Billy’s hands roaming the smooth plains of Heath’s stomach where his shirt had hiked up, Heath’s cupping the other boy’s ass through his work clothes -- she’d let her eyes roam over the two of them, her face pinched and white as a ghost’s. The look in her eyes, though -- sad, betrayed...filled with shame -- had said everything that Heath had needed to know and from that time onward, he’d tried to be interested in girls.

Girls like Becky -- thin lips, skinny as a pole, small boobs that made Heath think of Billy whenever she let him touch them. Ruthy, a tomboy who loved a game of poker and a tussle in the grass more than kissing and groping. Paula, supple curves and full lips, a tease who let him look but never touch. It hadn’t mattered to him at the time, his fingers had not itched to touch her curves as much as they had to touch the Sanderson boy’s bulging muscles.

Heath went to great pains to hide his inclinations from the men he worked and fought with, he made a show of leering at women whose breasts broke free of their bodices, joining the other men on various work crews, his fellow soldiers with the Union Army (good men) at brothels and saloons, and indulging in a kiss or something a little more with women willing to overlook his predilection for bound breasts and the donning of men’s clothing during sexual intercourse when he’d much rather have been keeping company with a young corporal or the captain of his unit, both strapping young men, one with a boyish face and figure, the other with hands of steel, chiseled jaw and chin. A man that Heath had imagined (more times than he’ll ever admit) taking him in hand, making him writhe and scream in pleasure.

There were others like Heath, few and far between, and they stole kisses and gropes in the dark of night where no one would catch them in the act. It was all awkward heat, hands, lips, teeth that never left any permanent marks, at least none that could be seen in the light of day. He kept his inclinations in the dark where no one would see, where he wouldn’t be confronted by panicked looks and side eyes, the silence of disapproval so deep that there weren’t even words for it. He knew if he was caught, there was more than a small chance that he’d be hung or shot or castrated.

“Heath, look at me.” Victoria’s hand is on his cheek, gentle in turning his head, jogging him from memories of back alley meetups, stolen kisses...the fear that always gripped him when he thought about what he was and how his own mother couldn’t stand to look him in the eye after she’d seen him with Billy.

There’s a glint in Victoria’s eyes, so unlike the look that had been in Heath’s birth mother’s eyes, it’s warm and loving, accepting, and something in Heath’s chest loosens. He can breathe. His next breath comes out as a sob and he blinks as tears threaten to fall.

He’d been prepared for cold dismissal or a heated display of anger, maybe a stinging slap and an immediate eviction. A declaration of hate. He hadn’t been prepared for the kindness, acceptance, or love that shone in Victoria’s eyes, the open look on her face. No judgement. No condemnation to Hell.

A preacher had once damned Heath to Hell when he’d witnessed Heath and another boy in a display of innocent intimacy (a kiss on the cheek, hands held, a hug that lasted a little longer than maybe it should have). Back when Heath had been small, before he’d understood the difference between love and hate and how close to each other they really were. Before Heath had known that he preferred the company of men (hard muscles, tight stomachs, rough hands, chapped lips and stubbled chins) over that of the fairer sex.

Maybe the preacher -- seeing the hug and kiss, the hand holding -- had known then what Heath would become years down the line. Maybe he’d been given a glimpse of Heath’s less than innocent future. Maybe he’d seen the darkness of the forbidden love that Heath too often denied himself through the windows of Heath’s blue eyes. Some said they were windows to the soul.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Victoria says, brushing a stray tear from Heath’s cheek with her thumb.

“I’m sorry.” Heath’s voice cracks and he bites his lip, still swollen and warm from the kiss Victoria had caught him sharing with Samuel. The ranch hand is beautiful with his sun darkened skin and eyes the color of muddy creek water.

Victoria smiles and places her hands on either side of Heath’s face, pulling his head toward her so she can drop a kiss on his forehead. Her lips are soft and warm. He’s trembling and Victoria pulls him in for a hug.

“Shh,” she soothes. “It’s okay. None of us is going to love you any less for this,” she says as Heath’s arms encircle her thin waist and he buries his face against her shoulder.

He feels at home in a way that he never felt with his mother. Though she’d never withheld her love from him after seeing him with Billy, her silence had been a gulf of unspoken words, disapproval and bone weary sadness between them.

It’s been years since he’s felt safe enough to let go enough to be held like this and trust that he’s not going to be hurt. He remembers a time when he was little and his mother had held him as he wept over the death of a pet frog he’d named Hoppy. Her arms had seemed so strong then, able to take all of Heath’s pain and keep the rest of the world at bay.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore,” Victoria whispers into his hair, pressing another kiss there, easing his tension with fingers that massage the back of his neck.

“Thanks, Mother,” Heath whispers back, testing out the word that’s been on his heart and mind for the past month or so, hoping that she won’t reject it...him.

Victoria’s fingers still for a moment, Heath feels her breath hitch and he worries for a moment that he’s said the wrong thing, that he’s made an assumption he shouldn’t have, but her fingers resume their ministrations and she hugs him closer.

“You’ll have to tell me about your man,” Victoria says, pulling back slightly to look Heath in the eye, her own eyes are twinkling with excitement. “From what I saw of him, he looks like a good, strong man.”

Heath can feel heat rise to his cheeks and he squirms. “His name’s Samuel,” he says, something loosening in his gut.

Victoria nods, lips pursed. “That’s a start. Now, tell me what it is that you see in him.”

She hooks an arm through Heath’s and pulls him from the sofa, leading him outside where they can see the ranch hands at work, eyes scanning the working men until they land on Samuel who’s standing just outside of the bunkhouse, jaw clenched, his knapsack slung over his back. Heath’s heart catches in his throat, and he longs to call out to the man that it’s okay, but the words get stuck.

“Go on,” Victoria says, tilting her head in Samuel’s direction, catching the other man’s eye and waving at him even as she releases Heath’s arm. “Invite him for dinner.”

Swallowing, Heath nods. He’s rooted to the spot when Samuel’s gaze shifts to him, longing in his eyes. When Victoria gives him a little shove, he finds his feet and as he makes his way over to where Samuel stands, aware that Victoria is watching him. It’s when he grasps Samuel’s hand, pulling it to his lips, and brushes a kiss over the man’s knuckles that he can sense Victoria turning back to the house.

“Thought I’d pack my bag,” Samuel says, not looking at Heath.

“You’re invited to dinner,” Heath says, feeling absurdly giddy, lips curling into a slow smile when Samuel blinks at him, mouth opening and closing before he finally nods once and tugs Heath into the still empty bunkhouse to finish what they’d started, dropping his knapsack on the way to the bunk. 

 


	2. A Little Taste of Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samuel comes to dinner, and Heath wonders if the floor will swallow him up before his embarrassment kills him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the following comment: "i've just stumbled in your story...it's perfect...it would be interesting to see the other reactions." left by countrygirlita
> 
> And my friend, suerum, who told me to write down whatever came to mind and just go with it because I've been struggling with writer's block and having so many different fic ideas that I can't seem to focus on just one. 
> 
> I apologize for Audra. She just seems to want to fangirl in this. Hopefully this additional chapter isn't too sappy. 
> 
> I should also let you know that this is not historically accurate (people were not this accepting in the 1870s).

"So, Samuel, how long have you known Heath?" Nick leans forward, knife and fork in hand, forearms on the table. His eyes are hard, and Heath wants to throttle his older brother.

Samuel's gaze darts to Heath. There's a slight look of panic in his eyes, and Heath reaches beneath the table to squeeze his lover's hand. 

"We've known each other since Samuel started working here," Heath says, giving Nick a hard look of his own. One that he hopes says,  _ leave Samuel alone _ . He knows it will mean very little to Nick when he’s in his mother bear mode. Nick takes after Victoria more than he knows.

"So, two months?" Jarrod takes up the questioning. He has a far more open look on his face than Nick does, and some of the tension in Heath's shoulders eases. He isn’t judging Heath, isn’t focused on the fact that Samuel’s a man.

"Yes, Sir," Samuel says.

A muscle in Nick's jaw tenses, and Heath holds his breath, waiting for something awful to come out of the man's mouth. Before Nick can even open his mouth, though, Victoria's hand is on the man's arm, and she gives her son a stern look that he returns for a hot second before looking away.

"That's enough, boys," Victoria says. "Samuel is a guest in this house, and he's Heath's man. Stop questioning him as if he's on trial, Jarrod."

"Yes, ma'am," Jarrod says, shooting a quick look at Nick who'd started the questioning in the first place.

"Well, I think it's simply wonderful that you've found each other," Audra says on a sigh. “It’s just so romantic.”

Her smile is wide and genuine, and there seem to be honest to god sparkles in her eyes. Heath is grateful for his sister's acceptance, even if she appears to be over-romanticizing what he and Samuel have. They've only been seeing each other for a few months, their relationship is in its early stages, and while Heath's heart skips a beat every time he catches a glimpse of the other man, it's too soon for them to declare themselves an actual couple. 

“And you’re okay with this, Ma?” Nick asks, eyes hard as flint.

“Okay with Heath finding love?” Victoria’s eyes are just as hard as Nick’s. “As okay as I am with any of you finding love. Love is love, no matter who is involved.”

Nick looks at Heath, and there’s something smoldering in his eyes, but it isn’t hate. “You really love him?”

“What did I say about interrogating your brother at the dinner table?” Victoria looks ready to spit bullets.

“You said we couldn’t question our guest. You said nothing about questioning our brother,” Nick parries back, pointing his knife at Heath. 

Heath’s heart is pounding like a hammer in his chest, and his palms are sweaty, mouth dry. Jarrod lays a hand on his shoulder, and Heath takes that breath he’s been holding. Samuel squeezes Heath’s hand and Heath looks up. Everything seems to fall into place as he catches the love reflected back at him in Samuel’s brown eyes.

“Yeah,” he says, blinking, looking from Samuel to Nick, giving his brother the same steely look Nick is shooting at him. “Yes, I...I love him.”

Audra squeals and claps her hands before clasping them over her mouth. Victoria sits up a little straighter and places a hand over her heart. Her eyes are filled with joy, and Heath takes comfort in that. 

Nick’s looking at him as though he’s trying to see right through him, and Heath wonders if this is it for him. Victoria and Audra might accept him for what he is, and Samuel because they love Heath no matter who he loves, but Nick and Jarrod are another story. They might run him off the ranch.

“Heath, I’ll just...I’ll just go,” Samuel says, slipping his hand from Heath’s grip and placing his napkin on the table.

“No, son, you won’t,” Victoria says, standing. “You were invited to dinner. I apologize for my sons’ terrible table manners. I assure you they were not raised in a barn. Please stay.”

Nick shakes his head, the muscle in his jaw is jumping and Heath is half tempted to pack up his bags and move on somewhere else with Samuel. Somewhere they will be accepted for who and what they are. He doubts that such a place on earth exists. If the pastor who’d condemned Heath to Hell when he was just a kid is to be believed, Hell would be the only place where Heath and Samuel could go and be accepted (and tortured) for what they are.

“Mother, please take a seat,” Jarrod says. “We’re sorry.”

Victoria casts a glare in Nick’s direction before retaking her seat.

“Speak for yourself,” Nick says. “I’m not sorry. I want to know that my little brother here isn’t being bamboozled by Samuel, here. For all we know, he could be going from ranch to ranch--”

“Choose your next words very carefully, brother,” Heath says, cutting Nick off.

“I’m not worth all this fuss,” Samuel says, moving to rise. 

“Please stay,” Audra says. “Don’t mind Nick. He’s nothing but a bullheaded idiot.”

“Do you love my brother?” Nick turns to look at Samuel.

Heath finds himself leaning forward, keen to hear the answer himself. He’s said the words, and he meant them, but that didn’t mean Samuel felt the same way about him. 

“I do,” Samuel says, voice hard and the look in his eyes is something else. It takes Heath’s breath away. “God help me, but I do. I love him and I don’t care what anyone has to say about it. I’m done spending my life running from love. I love your brother, and if you can’t accept me, us, then you’re every bit a bullheaded idiot as your sister says you are.”

The two men are locked in an intense gaze, and Heath finds himself holding his breath for the entirety of an eternity before Nick drops the knife and fork and sits back in his chair, a smile forming on his lips for the first time that night. Heath lets go of his breath and wishes that he could get his mouth to work.

“Good,” Nick says. “You hurt my baby brother, and I’ll skin you alive.”

“He won’t,” Audra is quick to reassure Samuel who’s relaxed for the first time since Heath told him he’d been invited to dinner.

“Welcome to the family, Samuel,” Jarrod says. “See that you treat him right.”

Heath is suddenly twelve years old again, embarrassed to be caught pleasuring himself by his mother. He can feel the heat rushing to his cheeks and wishes he could sink right through the floor, but Samuel’s hand is back in his and he is smiling, and the look in his eyes is of love. When Heath takes a quick glance around the table, all he can see is love reflected back at him. 

Nick clears his throat. “I’m not going to pretend I understand this, but I love you, brother, and the fact that you love another man and he loves you isn’t going to change that.”

“Love is love,” Audra says in a dreamy voice.

“It is,” Jarrod agrees. “Just as long as you understand that you’ve got a long road ahead and it isn’t going to be an easy one. We’ll protect you both, because you’re family, but you --”

“Don’t worry, we aren’t going to be declaring our love for each other in the town square,” Samuel says, deadpan, and everyone laughs.

“We’ll be careful,” Heath adds. “I don’t want to bring any shame to this family.”

“Hush,” Victoria says, voice sharp. “I won’t entertain such talk. What you and Samuel have for each other is not shameful. I don’t care what anyone says about it, not even you Nick, so close that big mouth of yours before you draw in flies. Jarrod, you draw up a contract for Samuel that gives him a more permanent position and we’ll clear out a room for you at the house. You keep your mouth shut, too, Samuel. You’re one of mine now and I won’t take any lip from you either. You hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Samuel says. He looks like someone’s struck him, and Heath can’t blame him. He’s certain he has the same dumbfounded, happy look on his own face. 

“Jarrod?” Victoria turns to her eldest son.

There’s a contemplative look in Jarrod’s eyes that Heath recognizes very well. He knows that Jarrod’s already drawing up the contract in his mind, and working out all of the possible flaws and loopholes, every contingency that could end in trouble. 

“I’ll have the contract drawn up by Monday.” Jarrod’s voice has a faraway quality that confirms Heath’s thoughts.

“Now, let’s eat before our dinner gets even colder,” Victoria says.

A round of soft-spoken, ‘yes, ma’ams,’ is followed by the sound of silverware clacking away as the family does just that, listening to their matriarch. Heath steals a glance at his family, and his heart swells with love for them. No, they don’t all understand him, or his love for Samuel, but they still love and accept, not only him, but also the man he loves (and he really does love Samuel, he knows that now). If this isn’t heaven, Heath doesn’t know what is.


End file.
